In the wind
by TenTenD
Summary: Though there is not much time between the immortal and the mortal, bonds are formed through the smallest of things. It is these little things that matter in any grand achievement. Drabbles centered around Eowyn and Legolas and the ties than bind them.
1. Chapter 1

I think these two would make a good pairing for many good reasons which I will not name. However as there are few fiction works dedicated to them as a couple I have decided to make my own. This aims to be a set of vignettes.

Disclaimer: I do not own the cannon characters and I am making no profit off of this. It all belongs to J. R. R. Tolkien.

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Éowyn, the White Lady of Rohan, lay in the House of Healing, grey eyes set upon the highest point they could reach. Her bandaged wounds had stopped bleeding but she could hardly move without a bout of pain wrecking her whole body. Outside the sun was shining and Éowyn longed to feel its rays warming her. Warmth. How she had missed in the dark and dreadful period of Grima Wormtongue's supremacy. The shudder that travelled up her spine whenever she remembered the leech did not spare her. Fury boiled when she remembered the whispers of that monster; he had poisoned her mind too.

"My Lady of Rohan."

The spoken greeting dispelled her bleak thoughts. Éowyn looked towards its sourced only to be met with the vision of an Elf. The sun had attached its tendrils to him, for a moment obscuring Éowyn's view. But she did know him. He was a companion of Aragorn; Legolas he had introduced himself as. A tentative smile formed on her lips.

"Master Elf." her acknowledgement was soft yet not lacking openness.

His own smile was her answer. Legolas assessed the damage her confrontation of the Witch-king had brought. Superior eyes could tell that she would heal, but it would take some time and patience. Even wounded, her smile remained brilliant.

Something was born between them in that moment.

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I hope you've enjoyed it. More to come, in the near future...


	2. Chapter 2

Delight shone in Éowun's eyes as one of the healers helped her to her feet. For the past couple of weeks she had been bedridden and although visitors had come and gone she would have much preferred to be up and about. One could always find one of three people in her company. If her brother Éomer was not seeing her then surely Legolas was entertaining her with some story. However if neither of these two could be found at her bedside then Faramir, the new Stewart of Gondor by right, would engage her in conversation. Not only once had it occur to that this man liked her.

"But do I like him?" she asked herself in a whisper, walking along with the wall as support after she had shooed the healer away. He was a good man, of noble sort and a brave warrior. In time she could perhaps grow fond of him, she may even fall in love with him. Yet joining her life to his would only mean exchanging keepers. She would pass from her brother to her husband and in the end her status would not have changed at all but in name. The truth of it loomed threateningly over her. From one cage to another, for what man would understand her longing once she was a wife? Grey eyes darkened in a storm.

"What troubles you on such a fine day, my Lady?"

Éowyn was startled from her thought by a voice she now knew very well.

"Master Elf, have I not told you to address me by name?"

"I believe my request was the same."

They look at one another and smile, almost twin smiles. His unspoken question is answered with a slight inclination of the head And Legolas finds himself walking with her. They spoke about the most inconsequential of things.

The ebb and flow of conversation relaxed Éowyn greatly. Despite her worries she found herself in better spirit, with a ready smile on her features. If the Elf was aware of the change he said nothing, neither did he press matters with her qualms. She was grateful to him for that.

Her cheerfulness lasted well into the evening when she was again left with her thoughts. In thinking the matters over she discovered that what Faramir felt towards her was much like the feelings she had nurtured towards Aragorn. It was a mix of care, admiration and respect; it was love in its incipient form. Again she found herself questioning if that was enough for her. Would she be able to morph her spirit and put all her frustrations behind her with this tiny branch as assurance?

The answer flashed in her mind. Éowyn knew herself well enough; she had known it was not enough. It was not glory she sought, neither death. What she wanted was a little measure of freedom. The choice in her hands. She asked for nothing more.

There were times when she felt that only her newest friend understood her, for she had confided in Legolas about her dreams of freedom. He had looked ahead into the horizon and her heart knew he comprehended even if he had said nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

In the dead of the night Éowyn cried out. The scream, bloodcurdling, was not only a cry for help; it was an expression of utter horror she could not keep inside of her. Yet not matter how loud her cries were nobody came to her aid. She was alone in the suffocating darkness. The kind of darkness she knew from the times when Grima's eyes followed her and the worm trailed her every step. And the there he was, again, in her mind, mocking her even now. Bile rose in her throat. Would she ever be free of this monster?

Steely eyes opened through the shroud of sleep. Somebody was shaking her, Grima's voice fading from her mind. _Merciful_ _Elbereth_, she thought she heard the oath. Unable to put a face to the voice Éowyn struggled to focus her gaze. Her vision was assaulted by her brother's strong features yet she knew the voice not to be his. Craning her neck she managed to catch a glimpse of her elven friend. Instinctively her cold hand shot out to him. She knew not why but she had come to rely upon him much in the way she relied upon Éomer when they were but children.

Without trace of hesitation Legolas twined their fingers in a gentle reassuring grip. As if he sensed the chaos within her he whispered words of comfort in his own tongue. Like a draught the words flowed over her and within, calming her. In this time Éomer had called upon Gandalf the White to be of aid. The wizard had mumbled something she could not catch in her current state and held his hand to her. With some difficulty she extended hers back to him. Legolas had not yet let go of her other hand but he had fell silent upon Gandalf's arrival.

Light invaded the very core of her being and Éowyn felt something break within her. A yell was torn from her lips. Distantly, as if in a dream, she sensed a heaviness being lifted off of her. That darkness at the far end of her mind, a place she carefully avoided in the waking hours, seemed to pour out of her. The full extent of Grima's vile approach of her and abuse was only now fully known to the wizard. Gandalf chanted softly in a language unknown to her and placed two fingers upon her forehead. "Sleep now, daughter of Rohan."

Even in the fog that covered her in the midst of Gandalf command her hand had not let that of Leogolas go. Neither had his grip wavered. The sound of retreating footsteps reached her ears and she could make out a conversation. Weakly she clung to the Elf. Seeming to have understood her reluctance, Legolas touched his palm to the crown of her head. It was only after that she heard her brother's worried voice instruct Legolas. Éowyn mustered the strength to smile but exhaustion threw her into a deep slumber. She was, therefore, unable to her the exchange between man and elf.

"Why were you here, near my sister?"

"King of the Mark, I mean no harm to the Lady. She is an important person to me whose distress greatly affects me. I have sensed her pain and want to comfort her."

Éomer's face darkened. His lips formed a thin line but he volunteered nothing else besides, "My sister has grown fond of you."

Legolas fixed him with a stare. "And I of her." Elves had no qualms with expressing their feeling like many of the other races. They were opened and straight forward.

The Horse-lord turned around with not one word. He hoped and prayed that the bond between those two would not be a source of ache for his sister later on.


	4. Chapter 4

_For my reviewers._

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Legolas stopped midstride, silver eyes looking ahead at the picture painted before him. He was frozen to his current position in the flourishing garden. Before him Éowyn was speaking with Boromir's brother, Faramir. They seemed deep in conversation, undoubtedly oblivious to the world around them. With a start the elf realized he may have happened on a private moment and it would be best to turn away. Yet his body would not budge, his only choice remained to watch and unwillingly hear the ongoing conversation.

"And you shall be leaving with your King brother, my Lady, after Lord Aragorn's ascending to the throne of Gondor?" Faramir probed slowly. Something was on his mind, and it had much to do with the White Lady of Rohan.

For her part Éowyn regarded him unsurely. Although she had a vague idea what he was playing at she had no wish to give him hope where there was none. "My brother would not allow it to be different." Éomer had been keeping a close eye on his sister and as the bond between her and Legolas grew, so did her brother's attempts to lure her back to Meduseld.

Her voice had been polite but held no trace of affection and for some reason Legolas relaxed, then caught himself. What reason had he had to tense at the prospect of Éowyn finding comfort in a man who was, for all intents and purposes, courting her? It had not escaped him, the look upon the late Stewart's son when his eyes fell on Éowyn. He had eyes of adoration, yet Éowyn had not been anything but coldly courteous to him. A moment later the elf saw the pattern of his own thoughts. Could it be that his own eyes looked upon her so? Legolas was aware that they were closely tied to one another, yet the possibility of falling in love with her had never crossed his mind until this very moment when another showed interest in her.

But of course it hadn't. When he first laid eyes on her she had been drawn to his friend, Aragorn, and had remained so for a short while. Once she saw her confession would not be acknowledged Éowyn had focused on protecting, rather than turning to someone for comfort. Their friendship took roots on a rainy morning at Helm's Deep and it had been of the platonic sort. Or so Legolas had thought. His insides roiled.

Elves were being at ease with their feelings, both having them and expressing them, yet this was a more delicate case. The emotions that he felt around and for her were dangerous for both of them. Éowyn was mortal while he would not fade with time, nor did he have the ability of giving up his immortality as he was no half-elf. No, if he chose her, he would later suffer when her absence would become overpowering. Fear would not stop him if she too loved him, and yet their road would not be an easy one.

His ears picked up her voice, only then did he break from his thoughts. "I thank you for the care, my Lord, however, I have no such plans for the future."

"How can that be? A young Lady such as yourself…"

"It is by my own choosing." she cut him off. A fleeting smile touched her lips and Legolas swore he felt the world spin. "I am not yet ready and may never be so." Happiness flooded the elf at her confession, his mind going in a haze fiercer than any he had ever known.


	5. Chapter 5

Éowyn sat on a stone bench, mind in a flurry of thoughts. The sun brushed its rays to her golden tresses and warmly touched upon her face. Somewhere up in the trees the birds sang a cheery tune she hardly heard over her own thoughts. Éomer, her dear brother, had grown very persistent in expressing his wish that she join him back to Edoras. Yet her heart longed to remain where she was. What was more he had somehow heard about Faramir's great admiration for her and was forever insinuating one thing or another. She well knew that Éomer was not ill-intentioned in his requests that she travelled to Meduseld with him or that she consider Faramir's suit, but neither did she think he understood her. Éowyn heaved a sigh. How could he understand her when he did not know what she was going through?

It was not that Éowyn had not thought about settling down and bringing children of her own. She may take to things women commonly didn't concern themselves with, however that did not make her less of a woman. Like any other, she wanted to love and be loved in return and Faramir, not matter how courteous and pleasant, had not woken such feelings within her. Come to think of it, no man had ever done so. Aragorn was the only man that had come close to making her consider tying herself to him in marriage; her reason had more to do with his aptitudes than with the feelings he evoked inside of her. She had been impressed by his skill and for a time thought her infatuation stronger than it really was. And now she feared her hear had gone and got itself attached to someone else and different altogether.

With even more concern she came upon another one of the things Éomer had, only in passing, mentioned. Her close relationship with the Prince of Mirkwood, that was. He meant well, her brother; Éomer only wished to protect her, except he had not yet realised there was nothing more left of her to protect. Her fate had been sealed that day at Helm's Deep when Legolas had first engaged her in conversation. A smile later would form the frame of their friendship. But, as she got closer to him, her view of their bond started morphing. The affection she held for him was not the same as the one she bore for Éomer or the fondness she had given to Aragorn. Love had crept upon her without her realising and now Éowyn found herself unwilling to let it go in spite of the hardships looming in the horizon. Her heart had tied itself to Legolas, even if her friend did not know of it yet and would likely turn her away.

Would Legolas refuse her heart? Who knew? The elven prince had not been anything but pleasant to her; warm and friendly would describe it best and at times Éowyn thought she saw a certain spark in his eyes. More so recently, after Faramir had started taking an interest in her. Éowyn dared not hope too much; it could simply be that he was looking out for her. Elves believed that a union would be most prosperous if the participants were entirely given to each other, so her friend had told her one sunny afternoon during a walk along the stream. It was then that she had first realised her feelings as the thought of joining him in marriage had filled her mind with a pleasant sensation. Valar help them both if such a union took place. In the back of her mind a voice yelled that the 'if' was more of a 'when' than anything else.

The image of her parents flashed in front of her eyes, blurred by time. Despite the unclearness Éowyn could distinctly remember the almost palpable happiness around them and how safe she had felt with them. Her mother's love had been so great that in the end the grief at losing the children's father made her ill and she perished. Éowyn sometimes heard her cries ringing in her ears and the sad, tears streaked face in the last months of her life. Love was such a powerful thing; scary as it was exciting and perilous as it could lift someone then suddenly bring them down. The risk was even greater for her and Legolas, if it ever came to that. All Éowyn had to decide was if the reward was worth said danger. The heart of her cried out; it had long since made up its mind, in the early days of laying in the sickbed listening to the Elf speak to her with such familiarity and candour.

Footfalls behind her made the Lady of Rohan turn around. Her eyes met with another pair of story skies and a smile inwardly slid on her face. "Be welcomed to sit by me brother."

Éomer quietly joined her. He gave her a look she could not decipher and put his hand to her cheek. "I will be leaving for Meduseld on the morrow." he announced softly.

"Brother, I-" Éowyn began only to be interrupted a moment later.

"I have not come to ask you to join me, nor am I here for Denethor's son. You've already decided what you shall do and I have to accept that. But, will you be happy?" The question was a loaded one. And as Éowyn regarded him with surprised eyes he couldn't help adding, "Did you think it had escaped by notice, that your love for the Elf grows stronger every day?"

"I cannot deny the truth." she replied simply.

"Do not fear, sister dearest; his eyes, and his heart as well, are for you." After delivering the words Éomer smiled at her. "Be happy, Éowyn. Sister. Do as your heart tells you and know that should you ever need me, I will be at your side. All you have to do is call."

"Many thanks." Éowyn called to his retreating back. She had to bite her lip least she would start weeping. The meaning behind her brother's words had been clear to her. "Éomer, I give my word to you that we shall see each other again." she whispered to the wind. "I promise."

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**A/N: I have taken the time to write a longer piece because, frankly, I too am vexed with extremely short chapter. I will try to keep the minimun at this length. Tell me if this suits. :) **


	6. Chapter 6

Had anyone told Éowyn that one single touch could make her world explode around her, she would have likely given them a doubtful stare and consider the best way to depart. Yet then she'd been a green girl; her mind filled with a longing for adventure, a zest for life. That had been before she grew into a woman who understood things differently. It was, at the present, a matter not to be regarded as implausible. The Lady of Rohan had learned that a single touch could do more than shatter her world; it could rebuild it.

"Éowyn," Legolas called, his voice a plea, gently spoken. His hand held hers in a relaxed grip. The comfort of the touch made his blood sing. He would never tire of the feel of her.

"I will perish," she reminded him, tears shining in her eyes. "I will leave you alone in this world; I will cause you pain." And she mourned the fact that it was to be so. "I will be gone before long."

"And I shall still love you after you are gone," he whispered, his head leaning forward, "as I love you now. Whether or not we are together, my heart will break and my soul will cry when you are no more. But I would rather know a life with you, than leave here alone."

Those words wrenched a deep sigh from Éowyn. "I would hold on to you for as long as I am permitted. I cannot give you forever; I can only give you right now." In the end, they would both hurt. She for causing him pain and he from watching her drift closer to death each and every single day. But the pain they could endure, if only they had a minute of shared love between them.

Legolas closed his hand firmer around hers and placed a soft kiss to the crown of her head. The scent of sunshine drifted to him, a smile fixing itself on his face. He could not begin to put into words what he felt at her willingness to join with him. They may not have an eternity even if she'd been an elleth. Many things could separate them should the Valar wish them not to be. Taking her face into his hands, Legolas brushed his lips to her, the gesture chaste. He'd wanted to say something else when they were interrupted by a rather spirited Merry.

The Halfling, face flushed and aglow, ambled up to them excitedly, having probably missed the intimate exchange by mere seconds. "Aragorn will be crowned King!" His joy was so infectious that Éowyn could not help the peels of laughter that escaped her.

At her side Legolas shared his own joy at hearing such news. There was a momentarily, subtle look he had given towards the Lady of Rohan as if to gauge her reaction better. She smiled at him, wide and cheerful. It did him good to see her thus. For her happiness brought his own to a higher level.

"He must be so pleased," Éowyn said, simply letting her fingers entwine with Legolas'.

Merry, taking note of the gesture, levelled a curious stare at the couple. He didn't reply to Éowyn's words but understanding dawned upon his face. If one knew where to look, the fondness between woman and elf was most noticeable. And Merry knew exactly where to search for such signs.

"Indeed," Legolas added, his sentiment mirroring Éowyn's own. "And we share his joy." As he would share theirs, for Aragorn was a man who valued his friends and allies.


	7. Chapter 7

The crowds had gathered for the coronation. All manners of people watched as the crown was placed upon the head of Aragorn. Éowyn, the White Lady, stood amongst them, a silent song in her heart for the man she greatly admired. He had been born to be King, she had seen it upon the first time her eyes touched him. Brilliant, show-white petals rained over them, their sweet scent afloat. Éowyn bowed her head to the King who walked past her. And Aragorn returned the gesture, a knowing look in his eyes. Éomer was standing next to his sister, arm protectively restraining one of hers. His head dipped to Aragorn. The Horse Master affectionately squeezed his sister's hand, a reflex of younger years.

Then came the elves. Leading them was Legolas, tall as a tree, straight and proud. Happiness radiated off of him. Legolas hadn't dared look for Éowyn, but he felt her there. They would see one another soon. As of now, his duty was to his friend of old. The elf smiled, his head tilting for Aragorn's attention to be deployed elsewhere. The banner of the house of Elrond was being brought forward, but not on its own.

Éowyn had seen elves at Helm's Deep; the warriors with long bows and gleaming armours. She'd seen them well. But this was a new experience. For the first time, Éowyn saw a female of the blessed race. She was lithe and tall, above the human woman's height. And she was lovely. Flowing ebony tresses framed a delicate face with mesmerising blue eyes and red lips. No wonder the King could love no other but her, Éowyn reflected. And it was clear by the way the elven lady gazed at Aragorn that she returned every ounce of affection. They had been made one for the other.

"There is joy in your smile," Éomer noted, his thumb pressing into the back of her palm.

"Should that be not so?" Éowyn questioned, a knowing smile on display. "I have long come to term with my feelings for the King, brother mine. I shall admire him, always. He shall be my saviour for as long as I live. I will not deny it."

"But your heart beats for someone other than he?" The King of the Mark gave his sister a look of understanding. "I would have grieved were it not so, sweet sister."

Having said his piece, Éomer retreated a few steps. He gave a stern look which surprised Éowyn as it was not aimed at her. She turned her head to the side in hopes of finding what had caused her brother's actions. She saw Legolas gazing at her intently. Éowyn gasped, yet held her place next to her brother. It would not do to move. Instead, she acknowledged him with a longing glance.

Legolas closed his eyes and seemed to listen for something. When he opened them, a yearning of his own shimmered in those orbs. He shifted lightly, barely enough for it to be perceptible.

Aragorn had reached the Halflings. Éowyn's grey eyes could see the hobbits bow. Yet the King stopped the. To the amazement of all present, he was the one to bow before them. The crowds followed his example, all bending knees. Éowyn too paid the proper respects. It was for all the kinds to thank the saviours. Had it not been for them, theirs would have been a darker world. The White Lady of Rohan also had to be thankful for all the people they had brought into her life.

"I shall never forget what you've done for me," she whispered, eyes going to the elf watching her.


	8. Chapter 8

Thranduil listened to his son's words, skin turning a shade paler so that it could rival the show. "My son, ask of me the brightest of stars. If you will it I shall give you the command of the troops. Or should you like to you will have your own domain," The Elven King Thranduil tired to appease his child. "But I cannot allow you to tie your soul to hers. Lassui, understand, son." What could he possibly do at this point?

"Adar, my heart has already decided," Legolas explained patiently, gaze locked on the elf sitting on the wooden throne. "I shall not be persuaded to renounce my love. I ask you, adar: how can I bare to live without her by my side? Éowyn, the White Lady is to be my bride before the Valar."

"She is but a blink of an eye as existence. When she is gone you will mourn her, son." Sorrowful eyes recoiled from the understanding in the younger elf' stare. "You heart, your very soul will grieve her forever. It will break you. Do not ask me to bare witness to such happenings."

"I can only endure. And if it brings me to my knees, I shall return to happier times; moments with her. Those are all I have, adar. But they will be enough." One flaming candle quivered as if shaken by the emotions floating about. "Bare witness with me, adar, to the beauty and the tragedy."

Letting his head drop, Thranduil considered his son for a few silent beats. This woman of his would bring him incommensurable sorrow. "I cannot keep you from your path," he decided finally. "You shall wed her if that is what you wish. Bring her to the Woodland Realm."

Unlike Arwen, Legolas would never be able to relinquish his immortality. Éowyn fading was inevitable. Yet, he believed that even a short amount of time spent in her presence, that score of years in which she would stand by him, would alleviate the sting. Having known a life with her, Legolas would be changed. In spite of the ache that would swallow him, Legolas could not bring himself to regret his decision. For how could one be repentant for loving and being loved in return? And after that be it upon the Valar to decide the fates of the two lovers. The Powers of Arda would make the path clear for them.

"Adar, she is a brave woman. She is worthy of love," Legolas assured his father."In my sky she is the brightest star and her glow is by far the loveliest my eyes have ever seen." Allowing his father time to come to grips with the confession, Legolas waited in silence.

"Then let her glow be a blessing to you," Thranduil replied softly. He heaved a sight from deep within his chest. A weariness eons old gripped the King. "I shall count her as my daughter. She who has slain the Witch-king of Angmar shall enter this realm as my child."

Smiling lightly at the acceptance that had been given, Legolas bowed to his parent. He turned and with slow steps left his father's halls. Éowyn was waiting for him in the city of Gondor with its white walls. The elf took a moment to imagine his beloved sitting there in the window, her eyes searching the horizon for him. Cool air rushed past him, playing in his golden locks as it went. Legolas offered and amused grin and continued on his way. His beloved awaited his return and he was desperate for her too.

"Éowyn, I am returning to you," he whispered to the wind, asking that the message be carried into the White City where she waited.


	9. Chapter 9

**To the guests who reviewed:**

**_Leah_ I am glad you find my work enjoyable and I hope you will continue to read it in the future. Thank you for taking the time to review.**

_**Holly**_** I have not given any thought to the pairing of Éowyn and Haldir. If I do write something for them chances are romance will have little part in it. But I will see what I can do.**

**_lol_, it ****seems that your request has been granted.**

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The leafs rustled, a soft movement in the hands of a dawdling breeze. Éowyn took careful steps on the cobblestones, one foot before the other. The golden hem of her green dress brushed the floor gingerly, the ghost of a kiss. Grey eyes stared ahead unseeing; Éowyn was in a world of her own, the realm of dreams and fantasy. Gently flowing locks trailed behind her, receiving the wind's caresses.

Arwen took note of the Rohirrim maiden. She had fought a battle and slain the Witch-king, she had been heavily wounded yet she had not succumbed to death's cold grip. She walked the streets of the White City of Gondor as if in a dream. Her heart's song Arwen could hear well and clear, as her own soul had sung it and still did. Love had touched this mortal woman soul. Arwen had seen it during the feasts that followed her husband's coronation and the wedding. The elven bride had seen the way in which the prince of Mirkwood lovingly, reverently watched his beloved. There could be no mistake about it. And she had witnessed the light in the eyes of Rohan's White Lady when she caught her lover in the crowd.

So sweet and heartbreaking was their love that Arwen's eyes filled with tears. The fair maiden of Rohan, niece of a king and sister to another, belonged to the race of men. Beautiful were they who lingered but a moment upon the fertile soil; beautiful and doomed. Time etched lines into their faces and weakened their bodies. And, oh, in a handful of years the face that she was seeing now would be nowhere to be found. "I hail thee, daughter of Rohan," Arwen called out to the approaching woman.

"My Lady," Éowyn greeted in return, gracefully falling into a curtsy. The Queen's silence prompted her to venture a question. "May I be of use?" Éowyn regarded the elven wife of Aragorn with mounting interest. What could she possibly want from her?

"Difficult is the road upon which you have set yourself," Arwen warned. "I pray that you will find happiness along your journey for sorrow shall not be far away from you and yours. Éowyn, White Lady of Rohan, do you believe you can withstand that which awaits you?"

It took but a moment for Éowyn to understand the Queen's words. "My Lady will understand me best when I say that even the briefest of moments is a blessing. I have not the gift of an endless existence, nor can my elf leave his immortality behind. But this heart of mine I have long since placed in his hands."

"I can offer no more than my support," Arwen stated simply. "Our situations are vastly different, but should you will it, I offer you my support." Taking a step towards Éowyn, the elf put a hand upon her shoulder. "Are you certain this is what you wish for?"

Smiling, a soft, almost tender, curling of her lips, Éowyn nodded her head. "I chose him long before I knew he was a choice." Searching eyes peered at Arwen. "Do you know the tales they spin of the King and I? They say I love him." The Queen's face remained the same. "And so I do. He is the one whose council I have sought in my hours of need, for we understand one another. I love him in the fashion I love my brother." Éowyn stopped to gather her thoughts. "But my elf I love in a different way. My elf needs not words to understand me. 'Tis enough that we look into each other's eyes."

"Then my heart is glad for you, fair Éowyn," Arwen replied. "If my husband be thy brother, count me as you would a sister."


	10. Chapter 10

A wreath of snow-white flowers crowned Éowyn whose hands gripped handfuls of her skirts. The Shieldmaiden of Rohan had donned an armour of an entirely different kind. Gone were the cuirass and the long sword. She had no helmet or gauntlets. Instead of chainmail she wore fine silks. All the metal had been replaced with gauzy, soft material and fragrant flowers.

Éowyn's two elvish attendants concerned themselves with intricate braids, and that left the woman with her own thoughts. It all felt surreal, like she would be called to waken any moment and find herself in her brother's home once more. Yet she knew this to be no dream. Indeed, Éowyn, daughter of Rohan was not in the world of slumber. No, she was very much awake and preparing for her own wedding.

Upon his return, Legolas had brought with him an entire convoy. Éowyn had not been surprised by his proposal, she had been overjoyed. And now that she was in the Woodland realm the reality began to settle over her. She was to be a wife, she was to gain responsibilities. Éowyn had been gifted a lifetime with the one she loved. Uncharacteristically, tears filled her vision. Her heart would burst, so full of love and bliss. The organ swelled inside her chest, every beat a sweetly painful. Éowyn would finally find completion, a place where she belonged and someone she belonged with.

Rising to her full height, Éowyn allowed the two maidens to lead her. The wood hummed underneath her bare feet, warm and alive. The smooth surface was a caress against her skin, slow and tender, a reminder that she dwelled in the realm of elves where the nature itself was a friend. Éowyn's fingers brushed against the walls, the dark colours soothing to her silver eyes.

Surprise took firm hold of her when an elegant, slender, yet clearly male, hand came to rest upon her shoulder. Éowyn looked up to meet the steely gaze of the Elven King. Demurely, she let her eyes drop to the ground. Too penetrating was the gaze of Thranduil.

"Look at me, child," the King encouraged, fingers lifting her chin. Head bent over the mortal woman, Thranduil chuckled softly. "Do you fear me?" Oh, but her eyes spoke volumes. "I have promised my son that upon entering my realm you shall become as a daughter to me."

"You honour me too greatly, my Lord," Éowyn replied, shrewd gaze fixing itself on the elf. "I have yet to understand why it is you allow this union." Did he not wish to protect his child from heartbreak?

It was with practiced ease that Thranduil read the woman before him. "Had my son's heart asked for my consent I would have been glad; yet that is not the way of love. Lassui shall love you no matter what words leave the mouths of others. My son had chosen you. Were I to turn you away I would do us all a great disservice." How could he possibly cause his son pain by rejecting this woman?

"I do truly love him," she said, face aglow in the dim light. "If I could somehow spare him the hurt I would. But I cannot. Thus I shall endeavour to make him happy. It is what I can offer to him."

"It is the greatest gift of all," Thranduil responded. A hush fell over them. After a few sort moments the King considered speaking again. "Legolas grew without the nurturing love of a woman. I am hoping you can teach him what it is to be loved by one such as you. Be to him what you would have him be to you. Be as a parent, as a sibling, as a lover. And let him be all those for you. Trust in the Valar. They shall help."


End file.
